


The Bath

by SleepyEye



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran is the dream man, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mention of heroin abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/pseuds/SleepyEye
Summary: We recently had an attempted robbery at my store (not violent, she was just mentally ill), and the adrenaline made me loopy. So I thought, what better way to deal with it than turn it into a fanfic!





	The Bath

**Author's Note:**

> We recently had an attempted robbery at my store (not violent, she was just mentally ill), and the adrenaline made me loopy. So I thought, what better way to deal with it than turn it into a fanfic!

 

Robin had called Cormoran late in the afternoon, telling him that she was at the police station, and would he please bring McMum’s case file. They had been hunting down a client’s daughter, a nineteen-year-old last seen working for a pimp named Golden Archie. During the investigation Robin had discovered that Stephanie, Whittaker’s former child prostitute, had been given to Golden Archie to repay a poker debt. Robin had taken Stephanie out to lunch the week previous to try to get information, but the girl kept her mouth shut, sharing only that Archie was a good man who never hurt them, and bought them nice clothes. It was true that from a distance Stephanie seemed much better off with Archie than when she had been with Whittaker. She had no visible bruises, and had some color in her skin. Her uniform had changed from the ratty hoodie to a sequined crop-top and white shorts. Up close, though, Robin could see track marks on Stephanie’s elbows, and a heaviness behind her eyes that revealed the true abuse that Archie was inflicting. Robin had arranged to meet with Stephanie again today. 

Stephanie had been hysterical when Robin arrived, waving around a needle and crying so that Robin couldn’t understand a word the girl said. Before Robin had known what to do, Stephanie had thrust the needle into her vein.

“I’m not in trouble,” Robin told Cormoran on the phone, “But Stephanie ODed and they want to know what we know.”

“Jesus. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Stephanie is in a coma, though, they don’t think she’ll make it.” Her voice was high and shaky.

“Were you there when it happened?”

“Yeah. She was upset, and then… It all happened very fast.”

 

Cormoran got Robin at the police station and they went back to his flat, where he made her his favorite comfort food, scrambled eggs with brown rice and melted cheese. Robin ate mostly in silence. 

“Are you going to want more, or should I put it away?” Cormoran asked. Robin didn’t answer.

“Robin?” He touched her hand and she jumped like he had shocked him.

“What?” she asked.

“Are you still hungry?”

“No, you can… Uh…” She blinked up at her. “What was I saying?”

They had both experienced adrenaline before, the haziness, the memory loss.

“Do you want a bath?” Cormoran asked, “Would that help?”

“I haven’t taken a bath in a long time,” she said.

“Is that a yes?”

Robin considered, then nodded.

“That might be nice. Thanks”

Cormoran ran the bath while Robin cleaned up the dishes. Robin’s own flat didn’t have a bathtub, just a tiny shower that spat out occasionally hot water. Cormoran needed a shower big enough to fit a chair, and had been quite lucky with his flat’s bathroom. The flat itself was tiny, but the bathroom had a large rectangular tub with thick flat edges that he could sit on easily to maneuver into the shower.

Happy with the water temperature (he knew Robin liked her showers scaldingly hot), Cormoran went back to the kitchen to find her putting the dishes away still dirty. A brief glance around the kitchen showed that she had put nearly everything on the shelves still caked in eggs and cheese.

“Robin,” Cormoran said, “Did you forget to wash the dishes?”

She looked down at the bowl she was holding like it had materialized out of nowhere. Cormoran eased it out of her hands.

“Come on baby,” he said, “I’ll finish up here. You take your bath.”

Robin drifted into the bathroom, and Cormoran went back to the kitchen to fix the mess. He knew how adrenaline worked: once, after a client’s husband had threatened him with a gun, he had arrived at work with his jeans and his coat on backwards, and no memory of how they had gotten that way. 

He was in the process of scrubbing out the pans when he heard a muffled sound coming from the bathroom, something between a choke and a whimper.

“Robin?” He went into the bathroom to see her in the bathtub, her hands pressed to her mouth, silent tears rolling down her face. “Oh, Robin, honey.” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just adrenaline,” she gasped, rubbing tears out of her eyes. Black crescents of makeup had pooled up under her eyes. “Crying is a… a physical response to adrenaline. It’s just a physical response, that’s all. It didn't  _ get  _ to me or anything.”

Cormoran knelt beside the tub, suppressing a grunt of pain, and took her face in his hands. 

“Robin.” His voice was firm. “That’s utter bullshit.”

She gasped out half a laugh.

“Not like I haven’t seen worse,” she muttered.

“I know,” he said, “You’ve seen worse. And I know you can handle it, too.” He rubbed a washcloth over her back and she released her shoulders with a shudder. “But what you saw today sucked. It  _ sucked _ .”

“I wasn’t even in any danger.”

“What you saw today sucked,” he repeated.

She sighed.

“It sucked,” she conceded. 

“Just because it makes you emotional doesn’t mean that you’re weak. If anything it makes you strong.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’ve always been amazed by your empathy.”

“I just keep thinking about all the things I could have done differently. I knew Stephanie. I had spoken to her. I had bought her lunch. If there was just something I could have said, something that could have made her listen.”

“I saw that Carver is on the case. Did he get to you?”

“Yeah. He kept asking why I didn’t do more.”

Cormoran made a disgusted sound in his throat.

“I could wring his oily neck.”

“He’s a wanker.”

“It’s not even remotely your fault. You were probably the one kind person she’s known in ages.”

“But somehow kindness wasn’t enough.”

“Some people are broken in ways that we can’t imagine. That doesn’t mean that kindness doesn’t count for anything.”

Robin pushed the water around in the bath, thinking.

“Do you think I’m  _ too _ kind?” she asked.

Cormoran raised an eyebrow.

“Wot?”

“Like, if I had used tough love, or tackled her, taken the needle out of her hand, been a bit less polite and gentle, would it have gone different?”

“Yeah, you would have gotten a solid dose of heroin in your bloodstream, and maybe some HIV to boot.” He shifted his weight, ignoring the sharp pain in his knee. “She’s in the hospital now, where people can take care of her. Maybe this will be a turning point.”

“If she survives the night.”

He sighed.

“Yes, if she survives the night. What matters is that you got her away from her pimp. And you got people on the case. Maybe Carver will catch the guy.”

“I don’t trust Carver as far as I can spit.”

“He’s a prick, but he's good at the cut and dry stuff. Pretty clear who’s at fault here.”

“I guess.” Robin laid back until her hair fanned out like feathers in the water. “I want to help people,” she said, “That’s my favorite thing about the job. But if I can’t even handle one sick junkie, how good am I ever going to be?”

Cormoran thought about this. He wanted to say something, anything, to reassure her, but all of his words seemed trite and meaningless.

“Wait here,” he said, “I’m going to nip downstairs, I’ll be right back.”

Robin looked baffled, but before she could ask any questions, he was gone. She sank down until the water covered everything but her nose, and she was lost in a soft world of warmth and steam and muffled echoing sounds. She wanted to cleanse herself, mind and body. She wanted to forget that she had ever known Stephanie. She tried to imagine the events of the day being scrubbed off of her and dissolving in the bath, but they swirled around her like sweat and dirt in the water. She was surrounded by soap and perfume, but she couldn’t get the smells out of her nose; piss and mold and the sour vinegar scent of black-tar heroin.

She felt quite silly for letting it get to her so profoundly. She felt she should be stronger, not so sensitive. Cormoran was being so kind about the whole thing, making her dinner, cleaning up, running a bath. A nasty voice in her head whispered,  _ “It’s because he’s had plenty of experience with hysterical women, dating Charlotte” _ . Robin always tried to be as different from Charlotte Campbell Ross as she could possibly be. She tried to stay organized, independent, and emotionally steady, so that he would know that she was different. But sometimes she just couldn’t keep it up anymore.

She heard the bathroom door open again, far away under the water, and emerged, hair streaming into her face. Cormoran sat on the toilet seat so that he wouldn’t have to put his knee through the torture of kneeling again. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hands.

“What’s that?” Robin asked. Cormoran held it out for her to see. It was the drawing of a bird that Orlando had made for her. She still kept it over her desk, but hadn’t looked at it in some time. Robin blinked at it.

“You helped Orlando Quine,” Cormoran said, “Here everybody thought her dad didn’t love her, that he’d written terrible things about her, and you proved them wrong.”

Robin sniffed and smiled at her toes.

“I did help with that, didn’t I,” she admitted.

“You brought justice for Lula Landry,” he went on, “You saved Angel and Zahara Vincent from a sexual predator. Every day you work bringing people the truth, helping them out of unhealthy relationships and exposing wrongdoing.” 

He looked intently at the drawing as if it would tell him what to say next. 

“And, you know, you saved me,” he said, barely over a mutter. 

Robin looked up at him. He scoffed.

“Don't look so bloody surprised,” he said, “You know it's true.” He leaned back, stretching his leg out. “Sometimes I wonder where I'd be if you hadn't fallen into my office that day.”

“I wonder that about myself, sometimes.”

“My life was going down the shitter when I met you. Failing business, homeless. Smoking like I had a third lung.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Robin beamed up at him, tears threatening behind her eyelids.

“You’re no so bad at saving people, either,” she said, sniffing hard.

Cormoran smiled and scratched his nose, trying not to blush.

“Listen,” he said, “Lucy got me a boxed set of CSI for my birthday. You want to watch it in bed and pretend that the justice system actually works that way?”

Robin grinned.

“Let’s get really wild and throw in some Ben and Jerry’s,” she said, “Make a proper party out of it.”


End file.
